Silence, the root of the mushroom kingdom
by GodOfWurstwasser
Summary: There was silence. Silence... The silence deepened as the desperate silent cry of silence faded away in silence. There was no noise at all, and the silence engulfed the silent silence, where no sound was heard.
1. Chapter 1 The Mushrooms Cry in Silence

There was silence. Silence... The silence deepened as the desperate silent cry of silence faded away in silence. There was no noise at all, and the silence engulfed the silent silence, where no sound was heard. The silence was so overwhelming, if there had been a sound in existence, the silence would have silenced it. In this non-sounding silence, in this silent existence of anti-noise, there was... silence.

Suddenly, mushrooms everywhere!

A picture of a turtle was rising in the post-apocalyptic valley of post-doom. Where did it came from? What happened to the silence? It remained silent. But there was a sight, the picture of a turtle. And there was a place, and it was known to be silent, and post-apocalyptic.

The dystopia became reality. Colours of previously unheard silence where starting to corrupt the valley. "The picture! The picture", a silent cry, unheard in the silence of silence. A golden shower of colours was raining from the turtle, as the picture grew, and the mushrooms saw – the pipes, the pipes are calling!

The pipes are calling!

The pipes are calling!

An unreal phantom, a call in the silence of this place, unheard but yet existent. A call – the pipes are calling. A cry – the pipes are calling! Desperate – the pipes are calling! The silence... remained.

The pipes! The pipes are calling!

The mushrooms and the painting, imprisoned in a dance, where the colours hide the silence, which silences the call. But yet, the thought remains, the pipes – they are calling. And indeed, the dance is wilder now, the embodiment of the turtle's painting, a turtle, it grows from the picture, and the mushrooms rejoice.

The mushrooms rejoice!

Yet...

The pipes are calling!

What bizarre desperation arises from the depths of this silence? The silence – it crumbles, it screams silently in silent pain! The pipes! The pipes! Their call won't be unheard! The sound it fights. The call it rises! The call! The call! The pipes do call! Their call won't remain silent. The silence roars with silent anger. Silence and sound. Thesis, antithesis. The mushrooms, rejoice.

THE CALL!

The pipes are calling, can't you hear!

The silence is defeated!

TOO LATE!

The turtle doth appear!

A titan, from the picture, deceived the mushrooms. The sudden noise, the screaming. Panic! Chaos! Anomie! A tyranny of thought, risen from the picture. The golden shower doth fall, like an apocalyptic rain on the post-apocalyptic valley. A turtle to find them! A turtle to bind them! A turtle to curse them, that their kind, enslaved, doth never resurface again.

The silence is defeated.

The pipes have called.

The mushrooms cry... in silence.


	2. Chapter 2 A Legend Must Rise

The turtle, the turtle has risen! The mushrooms, the mushrooms have fallen! The valley, the valley has seen another doom. And there were clouds, and the face of panpsychism imprinted on their image. And there were hills, and the face of panpsychism imprinted on their image. And there blocks, and the face of panpsychism imprinted on their image.

The mushrooms cried no more.

The mushrooms have fallen.

The mushrooms, defeated.

The silence, no more.

The picture, it rose as a castle to blind! The picture it grew to enslave mushroomkind! The turtle! The turtle! The turtle doth rule world and mind! The castle, as warning, spawns more turtlekind! What anguish, what sorrow, the mushrooms must feel!

Yet the mushrooms have fallen, so does it appear,

the mushrooms no longer feel anguish nor pain,

the mushrooms have fallen, no longer for them

is there a loss, neither a gain.

The mushrooms have fallen... They are no more. Their identity – stolen. Their minds enslaved. Their will a lie. The mushrooms no longer are mushrooms to be. Goomba! Goomba! Now do you see? No longer a mushroom, the kingdom is dead. The Goombas, inherit the valley. The mushrooms have fallen.

The pipes are a forest, a forest of hope. Portals to kingdoms mushrooms' minds cannot cope. Think in portals! The mushrooms can not. Their wisdom of portals long has been forgot. But one of them rises, a Goomba no more! One of them rises, to open the door! The door to a world, a path to a God. To a master of pipes, of water and rod. The mushroom a frog, amphibious kind. The world of the hero is in his mind. "To the pipes", one imperative one goal he doth see. He strives for the mushrooms, to set them free! "To the pipes" "To the pipes", an otherworldly story, to adventures of freedom, death and yet glory.

A legend must rise.

The mushrooms have fallen.

The turtle doth rule.

The pipes – they are calling!


	3. Chapter 3 The Legend woke up!

Hast thou forgotten? A hope, there is! Hast thou forgotten? A saviour, there is! Hast thou forgotten? A legend, there is!

Hast thou forgotten? No matter what shadow doth plague the lands, no matter what scourge doth enslave the valley, no matter what darkness doth rule the living – there is yet hope.

The mushroom, who yet is frog in his name, he strives for his goal. The mushroom, who yet stayed mushroom, not Goomba, he remembers. The Goombas forgot, the mushroom's mind, it recalls. Recalls the legend, recalls a face, a face to be worthy of remembrance. Without hesitation, determined he walks, a path to the legend, to saviour, to the hope.

The legend.

The saviour.

The hope.

The frog of the mushrooms, the pipes he has reached. In the pipes, he must go. In the pipes he must vanish, the turtles to banish!

A FLUSH!

A flush, it engulfs him, it sucks him down in the ground. A flush to the other worlds. A flush of hope. A flush of danger.

"Bugger off! I can handle this. It's a piece of cake!", the plumber spit into the sink. "Damn shit just needs some readjustments, won't cost you much, just don't worry." He hated his job, but it was what he learned. He looked down the drain. Did he just hear a noise? Some sort of weird talking? "Bullshit, it's nothing!"

...The legend...

"What is going on there? Am I going nuts?"

...The saviour...

"Damn, am I hearing things or what? Wait, it's coming from the crapper..."

...The hope...

"What the f..."

No cross and no moon, no star and no stripe. The symbol of legend, a tool of his trade! A plunger, A plunger! Oh wondrous sight! A plunger is symbol for the hero to fight!

The mushroom it reached, it reached it's goal! The legend is there. The saviour is there. The hope it is there. A last thing to do is left for the messenger. He knew his destiny. He knows what to do. He knows what will happen.

A sacrifice! A sacrifice! But to save our world! To save our kind! To save our mind!

He jumps! It is done! Swallowed he fades. His mind rots away. Their mind will survive. His body digested. Their bodies will grow. His life ends. Their life will go on. The hero, he falls. Falls into the world, the world where turtle doth rule.

The plumber is dreaming. Yet, the Legend woke up!


	4. Chapter 4 Cruel Destiny

He is there to save, yet, he does not want to. The faces watch him. He is there to liberate, yet, he does not want to. The faces smile at him. He is there to revenge, yet, he does not want to. The faces laugh at him.

What purpose is there? Why save the mushrooms, now Goombas? Why save this valley, which has seen it's own end? Why kill the turtle, the vision of the painting divine?

Cruel destiny, the plumber has risen. Yet, he doth not fight. Was the journey for naught? Was the sacrifice for naught? Was the turtle of the mushrooms eaten for naught?

Cruel destiny, the plumber sits down. His head faces the earth. His thoughts are with his homeworld. His mind is not set for glory. His visions deceive him.

Cruel destiny, the plumber lies down. His eyes close. A tear runs down his cheek. His only thought: "Where am I?" and then... "Why hast thou forsaken me?"

"Why hast thou forsaken me?"

"Why hast thou forsaken me?"

"Why hast thou forsaken us?"

Crushing his mind as Thor's mighty thunder would, a cry of desperation disturbs his agony. His face it rises. His mind it rises. His eyes, they open.

A vision that doth not deceive. A princess, of beauty unrivalled. A fruit, yet also a chair and a frog. The trinity of symbols form a girl. The vision of the girl. The trinity of the vision.

The plumber, he rises.

Cruel destiny, indeed – the plumber strengthens his body for revenge.

Cruel destiny, indeed – the plumber strengthens his mind for liberation.

Cruel destiny, indeed – the plumber strengthens his spirit for salvation.

The plumber has risen. The goal: A castle of terror, born from a golden shower of dreamlike droplets in silence. The blocks will guide him. Golden circles of value will give him live. The time, it is against him. Yet, he conquers even time. The last of the mushrooms will give their bodies for the greater good. Sacrifices, yes. But freedom is worth more than your life.

The plumber knows.

He knows of death – why? He doth not know.

He knows of sacrifice – why? He doth not know.

He knows of the princess – why? He doth not know.

An angelic Chorus approaches, a melody that feels like home. A melody that feels like legend. A melody that feels as epic as it can be. The sound engulfs the valley, and echoes in a monotone beat throughout the caves underneath it, where only the pipes can reach.

His mind is set. His goal is clear.

The princess to get, he knows no fear.


	5. Chapter 5 Nothing is left behind

A jump for a jump. He approaches! He approaches! The turtles in panic! The Goombas in panic! The castle has fallen, the plumber is here! The walls were no match, he jumped like a God. The Goombas were no match, he smashed them like a God. The Koopas were no match, he drove them out of their shells.

Alas, the castle was a fraud. His goal is not here, another castle, it is.

His fury is great, another turtle doth fall. Another castle is destroyed. The beauty, not here.

His anger is great, another turtle he kills. Another castle crumbles. The lady, not here.

There: A secret entrance, in the underworld! Where flowers eat flesh, and darkness is infinite. A magic beanstalk. A way up! Secret way! Faster to get where his dreams will unravel.

The last of the castles, it's just a few steps. His power it grows, the further he gets.

What's that? The last of the castles? He entered it! The turtles see the end!

What dream is unravelled? What destiny unleashed? As the picture disturbed the silence, what powers did it leave behind? What did the golden shower with droplets of colour did to this valley?

The fight, it is short. An axe cuts a bridge, a fire engulfs the darkness, a plumber arises, his steps lead him to beauty.

This castle was the last, there it is, the embodiment of his dreams. More beauty than the eye can see, that is, why it is a dream. More beauty than the mind can think of, that is, why it is a dream. More beauty than this world can hold, that is, why it is a dream.

He falls into her arms, a kiss.

Bliss

eternal bliss

If God's did exist, they could not create, the feeling this moment revealed.

If God's did exist, they would not understand, the joy of this moment unleashed.

A moment? No, an eternity. No, no time at all. The concept of time fades. The concept of space fades. Reality fades into bliss, once and for all. Nothing is left behind.


	6. Aftermath

CAUSE OF DEATH:

Poisoning by unknown mushroom, which suddenly jumped out of a toilet, right into his mouth. As it seems, he hallucinated. He was in a coma for two weeks before his life signs were fading.

* * *

His brother was at his side as he died. While I don't make any statements about metaphysic events, his brother said, it was an otherworldly joy that he felt in him, in the moment he died.

At his funeral, only his brother was there. After the ceremony, he stayed by the grave. He would continue his work, the brother said. He made an oath at the grave, that the plumbing will continue.

What is there in death? Is there an answer? What is there in dreams? Is there an answer? Everything there was, for the plumber is silence.

There was silence. Silence... The silence deepened as the desperate silent cry of silence faded away in silence. There was no noise at all, and the silence engulfed the silent silence, where no sound was heard. The silence was so overwhelming, if there had been a sound in existence, the silence would have silenced it. In this non-sounding silence, in this silent existence of anti-noise, there was... silence.


End file.
